


Harry Styles and the Proper Fit Beauxbatons Student

by lowi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, this is really fluffy this is like cotton candy the whole way through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-19 12:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2387558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowi/pseuds/lowi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Niall is the only one with any luck in the canoodling field, Liam is doubting the existence of his legs, and Louis doesn't stare at people he wants to snog.</p><p>Harry does a whole lot of staring, on the other hand. At people he wants to snog. Zayn Malik, if he's being specific.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry Styles and the Proper Fit Beauxbatons Student

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freerebelion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freerebelion/gifts).



> Thanks to F for betareading x

Harry could’ve woken up to his mum banging at the ceiling in the kitchen – the ceiling which was Harry’s floor – but in reality he’d been awake for an hour so. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d slept anything at all that night.

He was just too excited.

And sad.

And excited.

He hadn’t before been aware that two feelings that were so incompatible actually could be contained within him at once. Maybe they couldn’t, he thought, poking his arm to see if it were about to burst. It wasn’t.

A soft chirp from the other side of the room made him turn around, almost toppling over the large trunk that was completely packed and ready. Huh, Neymar was still there. The owl that belonged to Niall – he had named it after a football player apparently, and Harry had tried for maybe the hundredth time his very best to understand what was so great about the sport, but he just couldn’t. On the other hand, he wasn’t really into quidditch either, but he tended to keep very quiet about that around his friends – was still there. Neymar had arrived last night with a letter from Niall, about how Harry wasn’t to forget bringing Niall’s comics which Harry had borrowed before summer because Niall desperately needed them for Something Important That Had To Do With Tits.

Harry had written a response, that the comics had been packed ages ago, and didn’t Niall trust him? Then he had given Neymar the letter together with some sweets, and gone downstairs to find the comic books. He was sure he had seen them in the living room the other day.

Now, since Neymar still was sitting there, looking owlish (ha! Shame no one was there to appreciate that one except for Harry – he laughed a little longer just for this reason, to have the pun feel properly appreciated), he had probably considered the payment of sweets too low. That owl was too alike Niall.

‘If I give you these,’ Harry mumbled and dug through the little bag with sweets he kept on his drawer for all owls that came see him, or well, not came see him but rather delivered things (although it was nicer to think they came see him, like little visitors that he was having over), ‘will you be happy then? And get to Nialler with the letter before I see him?’

Neymar hooted softly and swallowed down all the sweets Harry gave to him very quickly, at least considering he was an owl. Then he padded over to the window, tapped at the pane with his beak, and gave Harry a long look.

‘Oh, right, the window! Silly me, you should’ve said something, though!’ Harry opened the window and watched Neymar fly away, little tiny dot disappearing in the grey sky. Another bonk from downstairs made him jump a little, and he hurried out his room, yelling, ‘Coming!’

As he had finished stumbling down the stairs – honestly, ever since his seventeenth birthday when Gemma had charmed the stairs to transform into a giant slide, they’d been a bit wobbly, even though she had restored them a couple of days after, and so Harry still couldn’t make them cooperate with his feet – he went into the kitchen, where he found his mum busily conversing with the fireplace, putting makeup on, and making sandwiches.

Harry grabbed one of the finished ones, and gave the butterknife an indignant look and a small ‘ouch!’ when it stabbed at his hand. ‘Hi, Jay,’ he said, smiling, when he had made out who the face in the flames belonged to.

‘Harry, good morning. Tell your mum she’s an angel, and that I won’t accept her not letting me take her out for drinks tomorrow night.’ She winked at Harry, or at least Harry thought that was what she did, since the flames were particularly vivid around her face, and then disappeared with a loud pop.

‘Mum, you’re an angel. Joanna won’t accept you not letting her take you out for drinks tomorrow night.’ Anne rolled her eyes, and waved her wand just slightly, which had the kettle whistling in no time. Harry wished there had been a course at Hogwarts in household charms, because it truly was the most difficult and most useful thing. He was going to write an angry – angry, but also polite and very convincing – letter to the board this very night. He figured he’d have to have Niall read it over so there was no rambling. And Louis too so there was enough heat and not too much politeness. And Liam as well, probably. To get rid of all of Louis’ rudeness. All that was missing was someone reading it over to correct all their grammar mistakes and spelling mistakes.

Niall had told Harry about how Muggle schools actually taught student things like that. Harry made a mental note to include that, as well, in his angry-but-polite letter, to suggest that they included a class on grammar and proper spelling, too, because seriously, Liam’s last essay on Disembodiment Charms and Their Untrustworthiness when Used for Suspended Periods of Time for Charms had got a T for being unreadable. Actually unreadable. Flitwick had given it back to Liam with a slightly embarrassed headshake, and said he hadn’t managed to figure out one thing, what it said. The fact Liam had passed the class had solely been because he had got some special circumstances dispense, so he’d had to read the essay out loud to Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Flitwick.

Yeah, a class on spelling and stuff would be great.

A dishcloth slapping Harry gently around his chin awoke him from his musings about Hogwarts’ classes and their usability for dealing with the Real World. That is, the Grown-Up World. ‘Harry, darling, please finish that toast as soon as possible; we have to leave in just a bit,’ Anne said, make-up now complete and the sandwiches packed in a neat brown paper bag.

‘It’s only eight, though, why the rush?’ Harry said, standing up either way. ‘And why is Joanna taking you out for drinks? Mum, you can’t go to Hogsmeade again. Please don’t go there. Or, you can go there, but don’t embarrass me, please.’ Harry chewed a bit at his toast. ‘Okay, you can embarrass me, too, if you want. I suppose that’s part of my childhood, feeling ashamed for my mum.’ He looked up at his mum, who had walked over to him and now looked down at him with a soft smile.

‘Harry,’ she began, petting his hair. ‘Don’t cry, baby.’

‘It’s my last year,’ Harry sobbed into her jumper. Those tears had come very unexpectedly, but as long as no one saw him, it was fine. ‘I’m gonna miss it so much, Mum. The castle and Professor Binns and the boys and –‘ Another large sob made his entire body vibrate, but Anne kept petting his hair, squeezing him tightly to her. He only was seventeen; it was okay to have a bit of a cry on your mum every now and then.

Then the kitchen door burst open at the exact same time as the fireplace turned green.

There was a moment of silence – during which Harry tried his best to wipe his snotty nose on Anne’s jumper without her noticing – and then there was terribly loud laughter coming from the doorway, and a confused-sounding sound (eh, even Harry’s ability to form sentences seemed off-track, just slightly) from the fireplace: a strange mixture of worry and incredulousness. ‘Heyyyyy,’ Harry said. ‘You’re not allowed to laugh at me.’ His voice was thick, though, and he pulled at the hem of Anne’s jumper. ‘Tell’em stop, Mum.’

Anne laughed softly. ‘Gemma, don’t laugh at your brother. He’s feeling a bit nostalgic – Louis, I think you’re one of the reasons Harry’s shed a couple of tears, so feel honoured.’

Louis looked very alarmed to hear this, so Harry quickly said, ‘You are, Tommo,’ and hoped it would provide some sort of comfort to the boy. To Gemma, he said, ‘And you’re not supposed to laugh, Gems. Or, wait, you are, that’s also part of it.’ He might have started sobbing again, but Gemma’s explanation to Louis that Harry had had a similar cry when _she_ graduated from Hogwarts hopefully drowned it out.

Then Gemma stomped over to him and pulled him out of Anne’s grasp. ‘Well, baby brother dearest, I don’t have much time. Popped in just to say have a good year, stay in line, don’t let those chaos-maestros get you into trouble.’ (‘Hey!’ was the single retort Louis provided to that; Harry guessed it was too early in the morning for Louis to have his usually quick wits functioning properly.) ‘I’m off to work now.’ Gemma finished by giving him a stern look and a long hug, and then she poked at his cheek, ‘And chin up, seventh year should be fun.’

‘See you tonight for dinner,’ Anne said – slightly unfocused, as she was simultaneously making Harry’s trunk fly down the stairs and combing Louis’ hair – when Gemma disappeared out the door.

Louis tugged at Harry’s hand until he turned over, as Anne apparently had given up on his hair and hurried into the living room. Like a ragdoll, Harry felt. Small and easily tossed around, he was. He had been staring out the window – Gemma could still be seen, purple hair shining like a beacon between the high boxwood hedges. ‘Haz to Earth, Haz to Earth, over and out.’

‘It’s meant to be “over,” just over,’ Harry said. ‘Niall’s said so,’ he elaborated when Louis’ eyes became smaller. ‘What?’ he finished with. ‘And what’re you even doing here?’

Louis shrugged. ‘The twins had a cold so Mum had to stay home watch them, so I’m supposed to go with you to King’s Cross. Were you, er, crying because of me?’

Harry snorted. ‘Not like that, you self-absorbed dimwit. Don’t you think it’s sad it’s our last year, or is that just me?’

Louis looked at Harry for a long while, and then put his hands down his jeans. The jeans were awfully skinny and Harry suspected they were from the girls’ department at H&M. Louis didn’t quite like shopping for Muggle clothes. ‘It’s kind of sad, I suppose. Liam sent Cerebrus over last night with a list of things we had to do before leaving –‘ Louis’ ears went a little bit red and Harry just had to.

‘Did it include sucking your dick in Greenhouse number two?’

Now Louis’ entire face had a nice beetroot-red colour. ‘ _Harold_ ,’ he hissed, pinching Harry’s arm. ‘ _No_.’

‘I was just asking!’ Harry defended himself. ‘It is your last year; the two of you should stop beating around the bush and act on it!’

‘Says the expert of romance,’ Louis mumbled, flush still high on his cheeks.

‘I bet if you asked Niall he’d advice you just the same and he’s the only one out of us who’s, like, got any luck in the canoodling field,’ Harry said. Just a little bit bitter.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Harold,’ Louis said loudly.

The entire time on the underground Louis kept having no idea what Harry was talking about (to be perfectly honest Harry did lay off the nagging pretty much, since they kind of got caught in the morning jam, and they did have two large trunks with them and everything was slightly awkward when Anne somehow got them on that train and a couple of young Muggles suddenly stood outside the train – Harry smiled apologetically at them but they were probably too confused to realise he even was trying to catch their eyes; he also made a mental note to ask his mum if it really was possible to make replacement charms like that or if she’d done it somehow else) and then, when they arrived at King’s Cross they bumped into Liam after, like, two seconds and Harry really didn’t want to talk about it then. Hey, he actually could be a good friend.

‘Liam!’ Louis exclaimed, after giving Harry a not-too-discrete – in his own opinion most probably perfectly subtle – look saying ‘If you mention anything’s that got to do with me blowing Liam I will feed you to the thestrals without any second thought.’ Quite impressive, was it, that Louis’ facial expression could convey that much. ‘I’ve just been on the tuber!’

‘It’s called “the tube,” Louis,’ Harry said and gave Liam a hug when Louis had stepped away from Liam and their weird bro-hug where they patted each other’s backs in a super-manly fashion which seemed to hurt a little bit.

Harry’s hug didn’t hurt, at all, and he pressed his nose into Liam’s neck a little. He’d not seen Liam for the entire summer, and the boy was really tan and had a new haircut. So much for Harry to digest, and one of those things was Liam’s smell. Proper categoriser, Harry was.

‘Why did you take the underground here?’ Liam asked, tugging at one of Harry’s curls.

‘Mum didn’t want to do side-along apparition when there’s, like, two of us,’ Harry explained. Liam nodded understandingly – seriously, that boy’s facial expression was the best thing Harry knew, and this thought became even further solidified when that very face, in the blink of an eye, turned into full-blown, super-scrunchy eyes-smiley, happy.

Harry turned around quickly, to see the reason for Liam’s smile, even though he’d already half-guessed (half-hoped? Yeah? Maybe) the answer. ‘Niall!’

‘There ya are! Been looking for you three all over the place.’

Thereafter, everything became a bit blurry. Like, literally blurry. It was a bit awkward that Harry’s eyes kept becoming watering devices in this fashion, considering he was going to become a seventh-year in just a couple of hours. But he also weren’t going to see his mum in three months, so there was that.

When he finally let Anne go – that is, when she had tried to pry herself loose for a few minutes, telling Harry he had to get on the train _now_ or he’d miss it, and Louis had physically dragged Harry on board – he tried drying his tears. Didn’t want to come to the welcoming feast all puffy-eyed and snotty.

The train ride passed quickly, and he cheered up rather easily, what with Niall winding himself around him the moment they sat down in the compartment. The blond explained he was terribly hangover – cue the sunglasses he’d been wearing that had had Louis’ eyes narrow suspiciously: the sunglasses were now on Louis and he looked a lot less suspicious (maybe because Liam had put them on him, informing him they were not dangerous, and Louis’ cheeks had grown an awful red) – since Niall had been thrown a joint birthday and goodbye party by Bressie and a few of his other mates in Kenmare Kestrels, and the amounts of firewhiskey that had been consumed would have the entire team suspended if the coach ever found out. And therefore, Niall wanted lots of cuddles, and please could Liam and Louis stop shouting, the sunglasses were _Niall’s_ , so instead of arguing about who was gonna wear them just give ‘em back to him?

The train ride passed pretty much like that, and Harry was not at all prepared – being engulfed in a conversation with Liam about the Scottish independence referendum and whether or not Hogwarts students would need to show passports in the future, getting to the castle (Louis was listening with suspicious eyes again, quietly asking what passports were) – when Niall who had been half-slumbering beneath his robes groaned that they were there.

In the carriages Harry started tearing up again. He wiped at his eyes furiously, but seriously, not considering the return after Christmas break, this was the last time he was returning to Hogwarts. He felt not at all ready to be an adult, and the fact he was sobbing like this made him feel even less grown-up. Louis kept poking his cheek to stop him from crying, but Liam gave him a solemn look from the seat opposite him, that said pretty much ‘If I wasn’t like six point eight times cooler than you, Haz, I’d also have a bit of a cry right now.’ It was actually very comforting. Much more so than getting Louis’ finger all up in his vision.

After that, he didn’t cry more, unless you counted when he at dinner swallowed a piece of pumpkin pie wrongly, and coughed until there were tears in his eyes. (Niall swatting at his back wildly might also have contributed, but the boy had a good reason, so Harry wasn’t upset. It might in fact have helped, Niall had most probably saved his life.)

‘You saved my life!’ he exclaimed. ‘Let me shake your hand, please!’

Niall cackled, banging his hand on the table so everything on it rattled. His hangover seemed to have left him, Harry noted. He also noted that a couple of the newly sorted first-years looked at Niall a little alarmed, so he smiled towards them. They didn’t look any less alarmed.

‘Can I have your attention, please?’ Professor McGonagall’s voice drifted through the steaming plates and chatter, and soon every noise had died down. Including Niall’s hooting, even though it lasted for very long.

McGonagall was awesome, Harry thought. He wanted to be like her when he grew up.

Her mouth tilted upwards in just a hint of a smile, as she began speaking again. ‘Dear students, I have the great pleasure to inform you that this year, The Triwizard Tournament will be held.’ A wild cheer erupted because of that, and Niall started banging on the table again. Liam looked absolutely ecstatic, and Louis was already standing on his chair, roaring something. Harry started applauding, a little apprehensively.

‘What?’ Niall hissed when it all quietened down a bit.

‘Last time it was held a student died,’ Harry hissed back.

‘So? Wasn’t that when Voldemort was around?’

‘Yeah, but still…’

‘You’re too hung up on history,’ Niall said, bumping his shoulder into Harry’s. ‘This is gonna be absolutely mad, lemme tell you!’

The boys’ enthusiasm didn’t die down for the next couple of days, and when Liam and Louis went together to put their names in the goblet, the two of them were so wound-up they transformed all the chairs in the Gryffindor tower to giant pastries on their return. They weren’t edible, as Niall informed them, because that was a law of some sort, that you couldn’t just conjure food. No one was particularly upset about this, and Louis and Liam kept jumping around yelling things, both to each other and to Harry and Niall. Niall hadn’t put his name in because he said he couldn’t be arsed actually doing the challenges. It was as simple as that, apparently, as he had shrugged and just said, ‘Nah.’

Louis and Liam had tried to convince Harry to put his name in as well, since that would be ‘like, fifty percent’s –‘ ‘Fifty? Not thirty? Since there’s three of us then.’ ‘No, I think it’s fifty. Fifty percent’s larger chance any of us will be picked. Plus this never happens, so you should do it, Haz, you really should.’ Louis had been nodding viciously and petting Harry’s hair, while Liam had put on his best puppy-eyes-show, and Harry hadn’t understood at all how Niall just had managed to say no so easily.

In the end he went with that he’d want to focus on his studies instead this last year. Even though the challengers were exempted from their N.E.W.T.s. When he said that it wasn’t really a good merit for a historian to have fought a dragon, they finally gave in and stopped nagging – and went straight on to ransack their dormitory in search for Everything Helpful in this Bloody Tournament One of Us will Win.

Harry was worried Liam and Louis never would calm down again. And his stomach also clenched a bit on the thought of the possibility another student was chosen to represent Hogwarts. Not that he would voice that idea before the selection had been done.

* * *

‘So,’ Niall said as he sat down at the Gryffindor table for dinner. He was having a whole bunch of twigs in his hair. ‘Do you think McGonagall’s gonna be upset with me for looking like a forest monster now that the Beauxbatons and Durmstrangs are ‘bout to arrive?’

Harry swallowed down a bit of mash and nodded. ‘Probably.’ As for himself, he had – straight after Divination – put on a new headscarf _and_ his Gryffindor tie. He felt quite pretty. ‘Are you coming, like, straight from Creatures, or what?’

‘Yeah,’ Niall said, mouth already full of chicken. ‘Had to stay for longer because the salamanders are poorly. Even though it’s just, like, mid-September, they’ve got a cold.’

‘Who’s got a cold?’ Louis asked, squeezing in between Harry and Niall even though there were tremendous amounts of space across the table. Harry didn’t mind lots. ‘Whoever has one should give it to me, because Quidditch today was horrendous. Liam made us do laps. I don’t need to do laps; I’m the Seeker, I’m just hovering around all the bloody time!’

Harry patted Louis’ arm and tried to look as comforting as he could, while he also glanced at McGonagall every now and then to see if she was going to stand up soon and announce the arrival of the other two schools.

‘So, have you like killed Liam for this treacherous behaviour, or why’s he not here?’ Niall asked.

Louis scratched at his nose and leaned across Harry to grab some gravy. ‘No, he had to stay for a bit to chat to Melvin. Lad keeps wanting to play Beater, but he’s a frigging pygmy; if he hit the bludger the rebound would have him crashing into the stands, I swear.’

Harry snorted, while he once more directed his eyes to the headmaster. ‘Lo and behold, this time she rose from her chair. He put his elbow in Louis’ ribs, and waved his fork towards the elderly witch. His mouth was full of corn so the hurt look Louis gave him, accompanied by a rubbing of the point where Harry had nudged him, really wasn’t fair. Like, had Louis wanted to see all the food in his mouth, really?

McGonagall cleared her throat, and the noise died down in the Great Hall. Just then Liam came wandering in through the doors, and when he registered the silence he looked absolutely horrified. Harry felt rather bad for him, so when Liam had finished striding through the hall to reach them – a stride during which pretty much every one was looking at him (sure, Liam was used to spectators, being the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, but he still was flushing bright red) – Harry patted Liam’s knee. Liam still looked as though he wanted to die.

‘Very well,’ McGonagall said. ‘Now that everyone’s seated –‘ Liam let out an almost inaudible sigh at this. ‘–I’d like you all to rise, to welcome our faraway guests.’

The rumble from everyone standing up was deafening, but the silence that followed was even louder, somehow. It was pretty cool.

A few seconds where nothing happened passed, and then the enormous doors swung open. Entered did two rows of people; one of them was somehow glimmering, all shimmery and when they passed Harry he was sure he could hear faint music, like tingling bells. Made him think of fairies. The other row, the one further from Harry which he couldn’t see as well, was filled with people heavily clad, but a few of them held torches, which stood out against their dark clothes.

It was impressive, to say the least, and Liam had to put a finger in Harry’s cheek to make him stop gaping, when the visitors had all assembled at the front.

The Beauxbatons students were all stupidly pretty, while the Durmstrang students were more, like, handsome, Harry decided. This was going to be an interesting year.

* * *

Flash forward two weeks, and the year felt more like it was going to be absolutely horrible, terrible, awful and every other synonym of ‘bad’. Harry moaned into the plush fabric of the sofa a little bit louder, so Liam wouldn’t stop petting his hair.

‘This is atrocious,’ he said. In response, Louis pulled at his toe instead of saying ‘Well, look who’s swallowed a dictionary.’ Harry wasn’t sure if this made him less or more upset. He had draped himself across all other three of the boys, who had been occupying a sofa in the common room looking perfectly cosy and studious (Harry regretted not taking a photo, but just a little bit, since he was craving cuddles and comfort in this dreadful state of his).

‘What happened this time?’ Niall said, not looking up from his book about Manticores.

Harry rubbed his nose against Liam’s thigh and sniffled a little. ‘He’s never gonna notice me. He just walked past me again, when I was, like, on my way to Charms, and I swear on Merlin’s beard I couldn’t have been more, like, obvious, in my staring.’

Louis huffed but didn’t let go of Harry’s ankle, which he’d grabbed instead of the toe now. ‘You can’t just stare at someone; it’s not enough. Like, it’d be creepy.’

‘You stare at all sorts of people, Lou,’ Liam said.

‘Not at people I want to snog,’ Louis protested, and then it became silent. Harry peeked up to see a blush spreading across Louis’ cheeks, and despite all his awful problems, he smiled slightly. A similar smile was on Niall’s face, where the blond was sat between Louis and Liam.

Harry wriggled his foot around a bit, and it seemed to awaken Louis from his frozenness. ‘Yeah, well.’

‘But, like,’ Harry began. ‘What else do I do, if I don’t stare at him? It’s probably not even worth it; he’s never gonna notice me anyway. He’s like miles upon miles out of my league.’

‘No!’ Niall protested loudly, slamming his book together and smacking it against Harry’s thighs, which were precisely in his lap. Louis also looked terribly disgruntled at his, and Liam’s eyebrows became the saddest ever in no time. Harry really had brilliant friends. ‘He’s not; Hazza, you’ve got like entire Hogwarts spreading their legs for you.’

‘Heyyyyy,’ Harry said. ‘Makes me sound like a slag.’

Liam bent down and pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead. ‘Our favourite slag. How are we gonna make you feel better?’

‘Wanna make a list of all the amazing things about Malik?’ Niall said, holding up his quill and a piece of parchment. ‘I’m ready to take down notes.’

Louis squeezed Harry’s ankle again. ‘One, Malik’s amazing cheekbones. And jaw. And eyelashes.’

‘His terribly nice French accent, it’s so dreamy,’ Liam filled in. ‘And the way his voice is all creaky.’

‘As though he’s been smoking,’ Niall said, nodding solemnly as he scribbled quickly on the parchment. ‘It’s so so so sexy.’

Harry put both his hands across his face. ‘You’re making fun of me, stop it.’

‘We’re not!’ Louis said, looking very indignant when Harry peered at him from between his fingers. ‘Seriously, though. We should fix this. We’re, like, the ultimate planners when it comes to, like, messing with the Slytherins. So, we’re surely ultimate when it comes to matchmaking, too, don’t you say?’

Harry groaned, but then, as he completely removed his hands from his face he found both Niall and Liam looking pretty much convinced, both of them with pensive looks on their faces and nodding a little. ‘Hey, no, what?’ Harry asked faintly.

‘Yeah, it’s a great idea. Like, so, tonight’s the announcement –‘ At this Louis and Liam shared a quick look with eyes so widely open it looked they’d pop out. ‘And then, whether or not Malik gets selected, you do some grand gesture. Like, it could either be taken as you congratulating him, or comforting him?’

Harry normally found Niall quite wise, like; he had this great view on life, how it was unnecessary to worry about stuff not having happened yet and such – and it seemed as though both Liam and Louis still had the same faith in Niall’s wisdom, but Harry was rather certain Niall had gone quite mad, now that he kept nodding slowly. Probably eaten some strange mushroom in the Forbidden Forest earlier that day or something. He stared closely at him, to see if he had any weird rashes or if his pupils were wider than usual.

‘What?’ Niall said. ‘It’s bloody brilliant!’

Harry started shaking his head, feeling just slightly helpless, as both Liam and Louis looked as though they’ve discovered a treasure or something, grins almost engulfing their entire faces. ‘I know what we could do!’ Louis said. ‘Billywigs. They’re sparkly and shiny, and you like sparkly and shiny stuff, right, Hazza.’

Harry couldn’t actually disagree with this. He did like things that glittered, sue him. Louis crawled out from beneath Harry’s foot and stood up, beginning to pace around the table that was loaded with now forgotten schoolwork.

‘So, I say, we get lots of ‘em from down at Hagrid’s. You can get into the cages, Nialler, can’t you?’ Niall nodded, scratching his quill at his cheek. There was already ink all over his face, pretty much, so it didn’t make a big difference. ‘Cool, good. Then, we bring the cage along to wherever Malik’s sleeping, and we charm them so they’ll be forming a heart together –‘ At this point Louis was talking awfully quickly, stumbling over the words almost, and he climbed up so he stood on the sofa opposite them. ‘ – and then some of them, we charm so they’ll make a “H” inside that heart, and have this right over his bed.’

Harry began shaking his head, but he couldn’t get his mouth to produce any sounds. This was terrible.

’It’s classic, Haz. _Classic_ ,’ Louis said, standing wide-legged, still on the sofa, with his hands in his side, and the look on his face was, surely, what one would wear if one had just conquered a particularly scary tribe or something.

But then, actually, Liam made a little noise in his throat, and when Harry glanced up at him, his brow was furrowed. ‘But is it classy?’ Harry figured he should make a diploma to Liam for this pun; it was brilliant, he had to note it down somewhere as soon as possible so he never forgot.

Louis looked down at Liam as though he was a real downer. As though Liam had just told the brave conqueror that, well, now they’d conquered this place, but it was in fact really shitty, it was all quicksand. And they were sinking, quickly. ‘Classy? Liam?’ he screeched. ‘Whatcha think, that Harry’s going to woo Malik with some fine wine and a dine? We’ve got Madam Puddifoot’s, The Three Broomsticks and Hog’s Head.’

Liam looked up in the ceiling for a little while before looking at Louis, and Harry thought that there was another piece of evidence for how gone Louis was for Liam that Louis actually waited for Liam to respond. Usually he would have dismissed this behaviour as ‘too slow, ain’t nobody got time for this!’ He never got it to sound perfectly right, but Harry didn’t have the heart to educate Louis on how it was supposed to be, not since Louis was so proud of himself for incorporating a muggle saying in his vocabulary. ‘Just suggesting that Malik would probably not find a billywig infestation in his sleeping quarters the ultimate romantic gesture,’ Liam said, shrugging a little.

Something in Louis’ eyes looked a little heartbroken, Harry noted. He didn’t know what to do – on one hand he didn’t want Louis look like that, but on the other hand he didn’t want to side with Louis either, because, well, he kind of didn’t want to have to steal Hagrid’s billywigs, and wouldn’t it be awfully embarrassing, this entire thing?

Niall cleared his throat, while Louis looked completely thrown out of place. Liam’s ears were glowing faintly red. ‘I think it’s a nice plan,’ Niall said. ‘Like, it’s cute, and you’ll seem real cool, Haz.’

Louis seemed to perk up as he nodded vigorously, looking pointedly not at Liam. Thus, he pretty much glared at Harry, and Harry felt just slightly scared, having Louis’ eyes directed at him like that. ‘Yeah, this lad – I’m pretty sure – is like at least part Veela. Which means he’s most likely used to people throwing themselves at his feet, so you can’t just do something tiny and stupid. Like giving him a flower or something, or a poem.’

‘Hey,’ Harry said. ‘Those things aren’t tiny and stupid, they’ve worked in eighty-eight percent of the cases.’

‘Love how you’re keeping statistics over such a thing,’ Liam said, shaking his head. Then he swung an arm around Harry’s shoulder and gave Louis an actual apologetic smile. Now it was Louis’ ears that got the colour of a Howler. ‘And okay, sure. Let’s do this.’

* * *

In one way, Harry felt really shitty, where he sat conversing with Hagrid over a cup of tea in his cosy cottage. On the other hand, Liam had promised Harry they would return the billywigs straight after Malik had seen them, and they wouldn’t be harmed in the slightest way. (‘Hey! They’re probably gonna enjoy it! Like a little trip; they must be bored of being in that cage day out and day in.’) And chatting away with Hagrid was great, too; Harry hadn’t seen him during summer so he had lots of things he wanted to tell him.

Louis had sent him the signal – Harry’s bracelet twisting the whole way around the arm – three times already, that the boys were done with the nicking as Louis so adamantly called it, despite Harry’s pleas to refer to it as ‘borrowing’ instead. Harry hadn’t finished his tea, though, and Hagrid was telling him about how he and Firenze had gone to Denmark this summer to search for bicorns.

In the end, it was Hagrid who pretty much shooed Harry away, telling him he had to get ready for the ceremony tonight.

The ceremony Harry had pretty much forgotten about. Louis was going to be furious with him, and Liam would probably be freaking out because of nerves. Ooops.

Harry said his goodbyes, and ran up to the castle. He could just hope the boys had managed to fulfil the other parts of the plan, and as he hurried through the Entrance Hall, he saw a cluster of blue-robed people at the bottom of the stairs. He slowed down a little bit, didn’t want to be panting in case a certain someone was there. As he straightened up from having bent over to give his hair some volume, still walking, he was suddenly eye-to-eye with just the person he had hoped to see.

Or maybe had hoped not to see.

Like, ever. Like at least not like this. Like, less in a setting where he was really flushed from running and probably still puffy-eyed from his sniffle he had on the boys earlier.

‘Hey,’ he said. Malik looked at him, a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. Harry really needed to know his first name; it probably was something superpretty to match his superprettiness. He only knew his last name thanks to some skilled detective work, where he had not suspiciously at all inquired a Rawenclaw student he used to make out with in third year, whether she knew ‘that cool guy with the earring’s name?’ since the Beauxbatons students shared their table in the Great Hall.

‘Hi there,’ Malik said. ‘Sorry, did we meet before?’ A couple of his friends, or so Harry suspected – and he felt a surge of jealousy flood through his entire body – stood waiting for him just a few steps up the stairs. But Malik had actually stayed. If Harry kept a diary he’d noted this down as the day’s greatest victory. He had used to keep a diary: where did that one end up? And why did he ever stop?

‘Eh, well, no,’ Harry said. ‘Um.’ Okay, so the fact his usually eloquent speech wasn’t cooperating with him truly was an offense. He wondered briefly if you could sue your own body.

Malik looked a little bit confused, but he managed to do that in the hottest way thinkable. Harry didn’t know what to do. He could tell time passed, but it was as though his mind had been shut off.

Then someone jumped up on his back, Irish accent fabulously familiar as the person shouted, ‘Hazza, stop blocking the stairwell! We’ve got businesses to attend.’ Harry turned his neck to see Niall’s smiley face turn over to Malik. ‘Hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I’mma have to steal this boyo off of you, pal.’ Then Niall whispered into Harry’s ear, while Malik’s mouth impressively crooked into a slightly unimpressed but still genuine grin – Harry wanted to make a study of all Malik’s facial expressions, categorise them properly, use different-colour labels, ‘Hey, c’mon, Styles, don’t just stand there. Move, I’ve just saved you like months of shame.’

Harry tried smiling towards Malik, and then he staggered away, Niall secured firmly on his back like a koala. Harry never wanted him to go down; he wanted this to be his life mission: to carry Niall around the world forever and ever. In that case he wouldn’t have to worry about Malik, and could just focus on that single thing. Oh, how much easier his life would be.

When he finally made it to the Gryffindor table, and dumped Niall unceremoniously on one of the benches, Niall immediately tugged at Harry’s hand and had him sit down next to him. He leaned really close and gave Harry a large, excited smile. ‘So, Louis and Liam should be here any minute now, done with the billywigs. Aren’t you excited? This might become your and Veela-boy’s anniversary.’

Harry scrunched up his nose. ‘It’s not like he’ll go out with me on the spot.’ Niall opened his mouth, but Harry interjected, ‘Or is it? It’d be awesome if it was.’

Before Niall had time to answer, Louis and Liam came over. They looked to be on the verge of skipping, but Harry wouldn’t tell them that, because such a description surely fell under the regulations of what they had to do to uphold their reputation as The Coolest in the Castle. Harry wasn’t sure those regulations were still imposed, now that they were seventh-years and could get away with much more uncool things (not that Harry ever had really felt like he fitted as one fourth of The Coolest in the Castle), but he either way didn’t want to bring it up and remind them of it.

‘I don’t know what I’m most excited for,’ Liam said, consistently tapping a finger at Louis’ shoulder. Louis looked quite mesmerised by it. ‘The billywig-plan, or getting to know who of us will get to represent Hogwarts.’

Louis stared down at his still empty plate, his face changing in a rapid fashion. Niall gave Harry a confused look, and Harry felt that he must be sporting a similar one. Then Louis said, really quietly, more to his plate than to Liam, but still, ‘I hope you’re picked rather than me, Li.’

Harry could feel Liam freezing next to him. Harry carefully turned his head over so he could lock eyes with Niall, and yeah, he, too, felt like they should have been miles and miles away.

Before anyone had time to 1) save the situation (Harry had tried to come up with a pun, but seriously, his mind was at a complete stop; had Louis really said that? This was probably as close to a confession it would get, and the imbecile chose to do it in the Great Hall? For Godric’s sake), or 2) make everything even worse (Louis looked exactly as though he was bound to say something incredibly stupid, something that surely would ruin _everything_ he just had achieved), McGonagall stood up at the rear end of the hall, which prompted the rest of the teachers and honorary guests to stand up. The rumble in the hall, from clinking cutlery and chatter, died down quickly, and then the goblet was brought in from a little room right next to the teachers’ table.

Louis’ mouth closed in no seconds, and Liam’s eyes widened. There was a tiny moment of neither of them moving the slightest, and Niall met Harry’s eyes again. Then, which was awesome, Liam grabbed Louis’ hand and linked their fingers together. Harry wanted to stand up and shout something, but he just sat there and tried not to make a move, so the spell wouldn’t break, because seriously, it was as though the two boys were in a bubble. Well, them two and the Goblet of Fire, that was.

However, not only those two were enclosed in such a fashion. The entire room was, like, vibrating, and Harry couldn’t help to feel a little out of it. Sure, he was super excited to see who would be selected, but he also couldn’t stop thinking about the fact there was a bunch of billywigs very romantically about to form a heart. In Malik’s room. Like, surely this was a bit more important to him. He understood why everyone else was more focused on the Goblet of Fire and its upcoming announcement, but to him it was only second on his list of Important Things Demanding My Attention at this Precise Moment.

Although when the goblet flamed up, Harry sort of stopped thinking about Malik and how he would react to such a grand gesture. Even Niall stopped munching at the buttered piece of Naan-bread he had in his hand, and stared with unblinking eyes at the goblet.

Liam appeared to be holding Louis’ hand so tightly no blood was flooding to it, Harry noted. Not that Louis seemed to mind.

Then, in a heartbeat, three pieces of parchment shot up, and McGonagall held out her hand so they floated graciously into it.

‘Delauney, Gaston,’ she read out. A blond boy from over at the Ravenclaw table stood up. It wasn’t Malik; the black-haired guy was seated further down. He didn’t look too disappointed – not at all disappointed compared to a few of the other Beauxbaton students. On the other hand, Harry had come to observe that Malik had a way of sculpting his face so his actual feelings didn’t show. Er, Harry hadn’t at all been observing him in a _creepy_ way, of course not.

‘Jugovic, Valentina,’ was the second name. A girl with long, wavy, light-brown hair rose, flashing a boy next to her a teasing smile. Harry felt a weird urge to get to know her, for some reason.

He shot a quick glance at Liam and Louis – Niall was now staring at them rather than the goblet, with round eyes. Liam was terribly pale while Louis’ neck was super red.

After a terribly long pause, McGonagall finally opened the last piece of paper, pushed her glasses up a little further on her nose, wrinkled her forehead, and then, ‘Payne, Liam.’

Harry actually fell off the bench.

When he managed to crawl back up, Niall was standing on the table – actually on the table, one foot in a bowl with crisps, the other dangerously close to push Louis’ untouched plate off the table – roaring ‘That’s my boy!’

Liam hadn’t moved an inch. The applauding from the Gryffindor table was so loud the chandeliers were rattling, and Louis smiled so widely it looked as though his cheeks would burst. Again, Liam wasn’t moving; Harry was probably the only one composed enough to try to gauge a reaction from the boy, so he put a finger in Liam’s ribs, and yelled, ‘Get up there, now, Li!’

Liam blinked at him slowly.

‘I said, get up there,’ Harry shouted. He quickly glanced up at McGonagall, but she was smiling kindly, so he guessed it wasn’t too much of a bother everyone had to wait for Liam to regain his senses. As though they hadn’t done before. Liam didn’t take stuff like this too well, like, when he was announced Quidditch captain in his fifth year and actually fainted in the corridor outside Filch’s office. Then everyone had to wait for ages since the passage got blocked when people stepped around his unconscious body until Madam Pomfrey came along to revive him.

‘Harry,’ Liam said in a quiet voice. He was articulating the words very carefully though, so that’s why Harry could hear him. He didn’t sound entirely like himself, though, and his eyes were unfocused. ‘I don’t think I can move my legs; something must have gone wrong. Are they still attached to me?’

Everything was said in such a composed and calm manner Harry actually felt like he had to make sure Liam’s legs weren’t gone, so he ducked under the table. The legs were very much there. When he peeked up again from under the table cloth, Liam hadn’t moved an inch from where he was seated, but there was a Louis attached to his face. The view had Harry so surprised he hit his head against the table and, well, after that it all went black.

* * *

Harry blinked. It was all very white and bright. Someone was pulling at his toes and humming a tune he recognised but couldn’t pin down. He blinked again.

‘Hey, Haz.’ The tune stopped as the voice instead said his name. It belonged to the same figure that pulled at his toes and – oh, it was Niall.

‘Hi,’ Harry said. ‘What’s going on?’

Niall, who was apparently standing at the end of Harry’s bed – Harry was lying down, oh, alright – said, ‘You hit your head on the table. And then you, like, blackened out. Took us a while to figure out you had, sorry about that, mate.’

Niall didn’t look terribly sorry, but on the other hand, Harry felt perfectly fine, so he didn’t feel upset about it whatsoever.

‘It was all a right mess. Like, I swear, I had to actually pry Liam away from Lou to get him to go up there.’ It all came back to Harry now. Like he was hit by lightning or something, the pictures of what had happened flashed before his eyes over and over again, what had had him jerking upwards so violently he had actually passed out. Apparently.

‘Did Louis actually kiss him?’ he screeched. He wanted to stand up; he wanted to run to the common room and make sure they were making out in an armchair; he wanted to jump around in this bed together with Niall in a celebratory dance.

Niall beamed. ‘Yup, proper snog, was it. Just grabbed him and went for it.’

Harry’s head felt back towards the pillows and he smiled happily towards the ceiling. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said.

‘Tell ‘em not to ever have sex in the dorm, perhaps,’ Niall said, still beaming. ‘Hey, move a little,’ he then said as he crawled up in the bed and beneath Harry’s duvet. ‘The party’s so loud I figured I should bunk with you instead, that okay?’

‘You don’t want to party?’ Harry asked. He hoped that Niall would stay; since he had had dragon pox in his third year and had to stay in the hospital wing for three and a half week he didn’t really like the place a whole lot. Pomfrey was lovely, but just being in one of those beds gave him bad associations to those weeks. Niall smelled like caraway and chocolate, which was, like, forty-four times better than the smell of hospital things. Plus, Niall was warm and the best at cuddling.

‘Nah, I’m knackered. Louis and Liam are already hammered, the both of them, anyway. Don’t know how but I guess you don’t need as much to drink when you’re already high from eating face and nerves and whatnot. So it was getting kinda overwhelming, you know?’

Harry nodded, his chin brushing against Niall’s shoulder.

They were both silent for a while, and then Harry remembered another thing. He wondered briefly when the last time his brain had worked properly was. Felt like it hadn’t been this term, felt like another lifetime. Seventh-year surely put a strain on you. Then he thought that, well, sixth year had been pretty much the same, but thank you very much, that was not going to be part in this analysis of why Harry’s mind wasn’t functioning as it should.

‘The billywigs!’ he whispered. ‘The billywigs, oh, Niall, we gotta return them.’

Niall turned over in the bed. ‘Oh, right,’ he said. ‘That’s all done and sorted. I went there before coming here, gathering them all and putting them back in their cage.’

‘Did they seem to have enjoyed themselves?’ Harry asked. Niall was, like, an angel. A superhero. Should have an Order of Merlin, First Class, if Harry could please be the one getting to decide who would be honoured with one next time.

Niall let out a huff of air, warm against Harry’s cheeks, and then he smiled crookedly. ‘Aren’t you gonna ask me ‘bout Malik?’

Harry could feel his eyes widen. ‘Yeah, but,‘ he said. He didn’t know what else to say. His heart had pretty much stopped.

‘Okay, not to get your hopes up. He didn’t ask me for your hand in marriage, okay?’ Niall’s eyes were glittering. ‘And he didn’t say he wanted to give you a handjob as a thank-you. And he didn’t go about finding your dorm so he could wait there naked on a bed of rose petals. And he didn’t –‘

Harry swatted Niall over the head. ‘Stooooop,’ he whined. ‘What happened, what did he do, tell me, tell me now,’ he said, having each word emphasised by another thump to Niall’s blond head.

‘Okay, okay, stop hitting me,’ Niall said, giggling a little.

‘Well, stop being a twat,’ Harry said and pouted. Most surely it wouldn’t be effective, because Niall could even withstand Liam’s puppy-eyes. Force of nature, those ones, which obviously made Niall an even stronger force of nature. ‘Stop being a volcano, you,’ Harry added.

Niall gave him a ‘what on earth are you talking about – oh right, you’re Harry, I’m not gonna bother’ look and then said, ‘Okay, soz. He was there, like, when I went into the dorm, and he looked just a slight bit uncomfortable, so I just went “hey there, mate, just gonna collect these little munchkins” and he didn’t really say anything, just nodded. So, after putting them all in the cage, I basically just said like, “well, name’s Niall, starting with a ‘N’ so this obvo wasn’t from me, bro” and then I pretty much left.’

‘What, so he, um, didn’t say anything?’

‘Nah, not really. He nodded again; he looked a little unimpressed to be honest.’

Harry grabbed Niall tightly around his upper arm. ‘Unimpressed?’ He tried to simultaneously whisper and screech – because thank you very much, he was _shocked_. ‘Unimpressed?’ he repeated, just for the sake of it. ‘But Louis said it was grand; you said he’d find it cute and even Liam agreed in the end!’

Niall patted Harry’s knee (as his other arm was suspended in Harry’s clutch, this was the only point he seemed to be able to reach) and said, ‘Mate, calm down. Not sure, like, it’s not like I asked him to fill out a questionnaire on how he reacted. There was like a party going on downstairs for that Gaston-guy, so he might just’ve been a bit distracted.’

Harry huffed. ‘Louis said it was _grand_ ,’ he said, again.

‘It was!’ Niall said, beaming. ‘But, thing is, it was just the start, wasn’t it? If you’re gonna woo your French Veela you gotta take one step at the time, yeah?’

Harry felt like disagreeing, in a way, and continue being huffy and a little upset, but Niall pressed tighter against him, and seriously, did Harry mention Niall was the best cuddler there ever was?

* * *

A couple of days or so later, Harry’s grand gesture still hadn’t paid off, and Harry was starting to worry. Another worrying fact was that neither he nor Niall had had to give Louis and Liam a stern lecture on how they were not allowed to touch each other’s dicks in the dorm and preferably keep the snogging PG-rated. (Harry had first, as he and Niall had scribbled down Rules for Sexy Times during a study session in the library, said M-rated, but as Niall had given him incredulous eyes his inkling that he hadn’t got the alliteration right had been confirmed.)

Either way, at the moment Rules for Sexy Times were not really necessary. Harry wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but the morning after the celebratory party for Liam, when he and Niall had returned from the hospital wing, Liam and Louis had acted awfully stiff around each other, being terribly polite but also horribly awkward. Harry really didn’t have any idea whatsoever what had caused this.

Whenever he tried asking them why, either of them just changed the subject super quickly. Like now, when Louis immediately responded, ‘What about you and Veela Malik, though? Did he appreciate the billywigs?’

Harry’s heart was divided. He wanted to fix Liam and Louis, but he also wanted to whine a little about Malik. He and Louis were in the common room, occupying an armchair all by themselves, and Harry hadn’t had a proper cuddle with Louis – just the two of them – in ages. Liam was out doing laps around the lake because he apparently tried to get super fit before the first challenge. Like, at the moment he was only fit and that wasn’t enough or something. And Niall was asleep in the dorm, having pulled an all-nighter to finish his Potions-essay on time.

‘I don’t know,’ Harry said and pouted, hoping Louis would pet his hair. Louis didn’t get that from the pout, apparently, so Harry buffed at Louis’ hand until it attached itself to Harry’s curls. ‘He’s not said anything.’

‘Have you talked?’ Louis asked.

Harry felt his ears warm up a little. ‘Nooooo,’ he said quietly.

‘Does he even know it’s you?’ Louis sounded both cross and fond at the same time. Harry didn’t know what to sound like, or what to respond, so he said nothing but closed his eyes. ‘Oh, Merlin, we need to do something proper about this, right.’

‘Like what?’ Harry asked, refusing to open his eyes. Louis didn’t say anything for a while, so in the end Harry opened his eyes and saw Louis looking carefully out in the distance. ‘Lou?’

‘I think I know just what,’ Louis said finally. ‘Don’t worry, Styles, we’re gonna get you your beau sooner than you know it.’

Then Liam climbed into the common room, cheeks flushed and hair sweaty, plastered against his forehead, and Harry could feel Louis tensing up. ‘Liam,’ Harry said as happily as he could. ‘How was your run?’

Liam’s eyes were focused a long while on how Louis’ hand was entangled in Harry’s hair, even though it was completely still. ‘Yeah,’ he said after a while, eyes a bit blank. ‘Run. It was fine, like.’

Louis said nothing at all. Harry wanted to whack him around the head, and also whack Liam around the head. Instead he went with whacking the armrest on the chair with his palm, and standing up. ‘Well, I’ve got to head. Class soon, you know.’

‘We’ve got class together,’ Liam said slowly. Louis was still fabulously quiet, and he stared up in the ceiling with his arms folded.

‘True!’ Harry said cheerfully. ‘But I need to, er, go wake Niall up also. And then, well, talk to Flitwick before class about the blossoming charm. Just can’t get it right, you know.’ With that he turned over and dashed up the stairs to their dorm. Well up, he halted in his maddening haste and glanced down at the two boys. Neither had moved very much, but Liam seemed super awkward where he was standing, wiping his face over and over again. Dammit. Harry just didn’t know what to do. He’d probably have to push them together physically or get them both plastered or something, to fix this.

Everything sucked a little bit, he thought, and the thought was further established when he entered the common room and saw that everything had turned blue.

Turned out Niall had managed to charm it that way in his sleep, and while he claimed that he hadn’t had any Gillyweed at all, not even a bit, Harry was suspicious because whenever Niall did things like this, Gillyweed had been involved.

Took them days to charm everything back again, because it was just so _much_ , but when Malik came up to Harry one day and said, ‘This yours?’, holding a blue hair tie, Harry made a mental note to write Niall a thank-you letter. Or bake him a cake. Seriously, this was the first time the accident paid off. So many Beauxbatons-students had come up to Harry believing he was a Ravenclaw student. And it wasn’t even the right shade of blue. Not that Harry minded terribly much, he had in fact met some really nice people due to this, one French girl named Tailleur Agile, who was really sweet and had promised Harry she would namedrop him whenever she spoke to Malik.

Malik who now was standing in front of Harry, holding out that blue piece of fabric.

‘Um, yes, cheers’ he said, holding out his hand. Malik dropped the bright blue tie in it, and grinned a little. ‘How did you know?’ Harry asked. They stood in the middle of the Great Hall, on their way out to watch the first challenge. Liam had been puking the entire morning, and Louis hadn’t been there for any of it, having left the dorm before anyone was awake, so everything up to this point had been rather awful. Now everything changed with the speed of a blast-ended skrewt high on ecstasy. Or something. Harry couldn’t remember if ecstasy was really the drug that made you super-energetic, or if he was confusing it with something else.

‘It matches your t-shirt,’ Malik said and gesticulated towards the blue fabric that could be seen beneath Harry’s robes. ‘Nice colour.’

‘Thanks,’ Harry said. ‘I like your colour as well.’

Malik tilted his head to the side, and Harry wanted to die.

‘I mean, um, I don’t know. Nargles, probably.’ When Harry was younger, his greatest idol was Luna Lovegood. Still was, if he was being fair, but anyhow, she always wrote about nargles in her books, and this _had to_ be a nargle-attack. Sure, Harry always felt a bit out of breath talking to Malik, but not to this extent. Surely. It _had_ to be nargles.

‘What are nargles? Have these nargles given me another colour?’ Malik’s eyebrows were raised impressively high, but his eyes were glimmering.

Harry wasn’t sure how to interpret it all – either the guy was making fun of him, or he honestly didn’t know what nargles were. Or, the third possibility, he tried to be a little bit funny and maybe possibly just slightly a little bit flirt with Harry.

Harry was gonna go with that one, yeah.

Except, he didn’t how to flirt back. Merlin, what was happening with him? Usually, he’d already be in the person’s pants, honestly. Harry knew how to chat someone up, he sure did. At the moment that was all gone, and he stood there with red cheeks and tried to make a pun about nargles and the colour green.

Again, Niall saved the situation. He pretty much ran straight into Harry, winding his arms immediately around Harry’s waist. ‘Hazza, there you are,’ he murmured into Harry’s robes.

‘Hey, Ni, what’s going on?’ Harry said. He quickly glanced up to make sure Malik hadn’t left, and nope, the guy was still there. Not that he was sure what he would’ve done if Malik had turned around – possibly, he would have thrown himself on the bloke’s disappearing back like a koala and never let go. Or, possibly, he would have sunk down on the floor in a heap of limbs and Niall-parts, and forgotten how to ever function as a human again.

‘Just dropped Liam off with the other competitors. He’s okay, now – well, he’s a bit manic or frantic or whatnot. Made almost _me_ nervous,’ Niall responded, Irish accent terribly strong. Niall’s accent was always stronger when he was upset or really happy, like, when he was having particularly strong feelings – one way or another: it was as though he exaggerated his speech or something.

‘Is Payne your friend?’ Malik asked, sounding genuinely interested.

‘Our best friend, yeah.’ Niall nodded, and then he continued in a whinge, ‘What if he dies, Haz?’ He still had his head buried in the black fabric of Harry’s robes.

‘He’s not gonna die, Nialler’ Harry said and swallowed, patting Niall’s head a little. ‘This is Niall,’ he said to Malik, pointing with his other hand to the blond hair that was all that could be seen of Niall.

Malik nodded. ‘I recognise you, to be honest. But I don’t remember from where,’ he said to Niall’s hair.

‘The billywigs,’ Niall said hoarsely. ‘Was me, yeah, bringing them ‘way.’

Malik looked confused for a couple of seconds, and then something lit up in his eyes. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Well, I’m Zayn. What’s your name, then?’ he asked Harry.

‘Harry.’

‘So, like…’ His face crumpled up and then his cheeks turned faintly pink. ‘Nice to meet you both,’ he said. ‘Well, I’ll have to head now; some mates are supposedly saving a seat for me.’ And with that, he was gone.

‘Niall!’ Harry all but roared. The head he had been patting he grasped in a headlock instead. ‘Why did you have to mention that about the billywigs? Turned it all so awkward!’

‘As if it wasn’t awkward before,’ Niall said a little out of breath while the two of them spun around in a circle, Niall trying to get loose and Harry not letting go.

‘Bet it’s ruined all my chances!’ Harry felt like crying, so he dropped his hold of Niall’s neck and sagged down against the wall.

‘Hey, c’mon,’ Niall said. ‘Not at all, really. Lou’s been working on the second step; I swear it’s going to be brilliant. You’ll get Malik – _Zayn_ any day now, okay?’ He tugged at Harry’s hand until he stood up, but held onto it. ‘Isn’t it a pretty name, huh?’

Harry nodded, but kept his mouth shut. He was sure he was performing the perfect sulk, so this pout was not something he’d drop easily.

‘Let’s go watch Liam not being mauled, hopefully, shall we?’

* * *

Liam wasn’t mauled; he had a scratch across his eyebrow from one of the jumpy cactuses (cacti? Harry wasn’t sure) but that was it. He had managed to get through the very much alive steeplechase course incredibly fast; however, he had missed out on a few points due to the fact he had forgotten to bring all the pixies hidden around the course, but he did hold the leading position out of the three competitors.

Harry was so proud he almost forgot thinking about all his ruined chances with Zayn (it was a pretty name; it was the prettiest name ever; ‘Zayn and Harry,’ it sounded brilliant) and how embarrassing everything was. But only almost. He petted Liam’s hair a little again, hoping it would somehow erase all memories of his so-far really failed conversations with Zayn.

They were bundled up in Harry’s bed, Liam and him, had been so for a while now. There was a party going on in the common room, but Liam had looked absolutely wrecked, eyes crossing all the time as though he physically couldn’t hold them open – and Harry had been very much in the mood for a cuddle (to cure his devastated heart), so he had seen his chance and grabbed it by its hand. That is, Liam’s hand.

Niall and Louis had been busy piggybacking each other round the room, and while the party was thrown in Liam’s honour, no one had seemed to care particularly much he was stolen. Possibly because everyone had started betting on whether Louis or Niall would be able to carry the other the longest.

So, well, Harry was pretty content as it was, now. Liam seemed to be half asleep, even though Harry had talked to him for the last five minutes – at least – about how Liam had absolutely slayed it! How the others had been nowhere near his speed! How that Gaston boy had managed to both get stuck in the thorns _and_ lose one of his boots in the swamp! How it had been fabulous, the way Liam had thrown that overhead spell which had hit the acromantula right in the belly! Schoolbook example!

The door swung open just as Harry decided not to wake Liam up – to let him sleep in peace, even though Harry had loads of things he wanted to discuss and dissect properly with the boy – and naturally Liam’s eyes opened immediately, since Niall’s voice boomed through the room.

‘Boyyyyyys!’ Booming hardly did it justice, trying to describe the level Niall’s voice was on. His entire face was sporting a nice red colour and the yellow blanket from one of the sofas in the common room he was wearing like a cape over his naked torso had several stains on it that had to be from butterbeer. ‘Where did you disappear to?’

Louis now also entered the room; he was quite red-faced, too, but more attention-dragging was that his hair was so wild it looked like a pixie family had lived in it for about a year. ‘We’ve finally figured out Step Two!’ he announced proudly, grinning madly at Harry. Looking just slightly like Step Two was a plan that involved an axe-murderer and a psychotic grindylow, but Harry weren’t to worry because Louis would incorporate both the killer and the long-fingered creature, so it would all work out just fine.

Harry contemplated saying this, but Louis was swaying where he stood, Niall was jumping on the spot, bumping into the door post all the time, and Liam was still rubbing at his eyes. No one would get it, surely. It would all be terribly confusing, so Harry just kept quiet.

‘Step Two, Step Two, Step Two!’ Niall sang and twirled on the spot. Obviously, this led to Louis also starting to spin around, and soon the two of them fell into Harry’s bed as well. Liam tensed up a bit as Louis squirmed around – Niall lay across both Harry’s and Liam’s leg and was already snoring loudly, hugging Harry’s left foot to his chest – but as Louis didn’t say anything but wrapped a hand around Liam’s wrist and murmured, ‘I’m gonna tell you Step Two and all its glorious details tomorrow, Hazza,’ with his eyes already closed, Liam soon relaxed too. He gave Harry a tentative little smile, which Harry responded much more eagerly. He liked this, all of them bunched up like this in one bed. They hadn’t had a proper cuddle like this in rather literally ages, and since, well, they only had this year left at Hogwarts they better made use of their time. Harry was going to propose at least a weekly sleepover-thing in each and all of their beds from now on tomorrow, he decided. Breakfast was going to be brilliant, with this proposition coming up, as well as Louis’ announcement. He couldn’t wait.

* * *

What Harry should’ve made use of was the time before he knew the details of Step Two. Step Two was terrible. He should have cherished the moments before Step Two was a thing, he should have valued his ignorance, before he was sat here on a silly little stool (okay, it was kind of cute: white with some paintings of flowers on its legs – but it still was most of all _silly_ ) by a silly little table with silly silver plates and silly silver cutlery on it and a tray with sparkling macaroons and a vase with a single sunflower in it.

Seriously, a sunflower.

Harry wondered who had come up with that one – like, who chose to have a sunflower as the decoration on an Afternoon-Tea-Party table that otherwise was quite thematically romantic and with hints of France? Like, sunflowers were Van Gogh and quite possibly farmyards where chicken were chirping in the background. Not pretty meadows with dazzling sunlight and bloody sparkly macaroons?

It had to be Liam, Harry thought. Louis had conjured up the meadow, after Niall had spent hours trying to describe this meadow in a Muggle film where vampires used to hang out. When Harry said Niall had spent hours, he wasn’t exaggerating, because Louis had wrinkled his eyebrows and scrunched up his nose, and said to Niall that vampires weren’t very romantic, were they, Nialler? When they try to drain you on all your blood? I don’t see the romance in that, do _you_? and then refused to listen to Niall’s longwinded explanation for so long, just dismissing it with a ‘You reckon Zayn’s a vampire, huh? Have you seen any fangs, huh? Does he have a cape? I seriously have no idea what you’re going on about.’

However, in the end Louis had somehow listened to Niall for long enough to get his idea, and well, then Niall had went to the kitchen and convinced the house elves to bake sparkly macaroons (‘The glitter is edible, Harry! Like, actually edible!’) and make rainbow-coloured tea.

So, Harry was quite sure Liam had sorted out the furniture and the decorations.

And a sunflower, well, it made sense somehow, that Liam would choose that for the table decorations. Harry decided he liked the sunflower; actually, it was the only thing that wasn’t silly around him.

The boys had put him there, in the magical meadow, maybe ten minutes ago, told him to just sit around practice looking pretty while they fetched Zayn. Harry had protested quite a lot, but then he had seen the sparkling macaroons and they were rather lovely-looking, so he hadn’t even noticed the boys disappearing.

If Zayn refused to show up, he decided, he would eat all the macaroons and not be too sad about it.

‘Umm, Harry?’ a voice sounded behind him. Harry quickly stood up, leg almost getting caught in the stool, so he toppled over just a bit, but he managed to untangle himself fairly quickly and regained his balance.

‘Zayn, hi,’ he said.

Zayn (such a pretty name – Harry still wasn’t over it) smiled a little and walked over to the table. And to Harry. Wow. ‘Your friends were rather convincing that I had to go here, but they didn’t really specify why.’

‘Oh god,’ Harry said. ‘I mean, oh _Merlin_ ,’ he corrected himself when he saw Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up on his forehead. Louis had actually managed to incorporate that muggle saying in his vocabulary in their fourth year, which had had him saying ‘Oh my god’ terrifically empathically _all_ the time, so Harry wasn’t used to people not getting what he meant when he said ‘Oh god.’ Zayn still looked a bit bewildered. ‘Sorry about them,’ Harry quickly said. ‘They’re quite –‘ He didn’t want to call the boys anything dumb, because, honestly, they were his best friends so he was not about to backtalk them. But he also felt a strange urge to make Zayn understand that their overwhelmingness just was something you got used to. Eventually. After, like, seven years. So he shouldn’t feel terrified in their vicinity.

‘They seem nice,’ Zayn said. Harry realised he’d been quiet for rather long, and felt his cheeks heating up. Honestly, what was he doing? He needed to pay attention. Like, here he was at an actual date with Veela Malik and instead of cataloguing every single second, every one moment Zayn’s eyelashes swept across his cheekbones, he was thinking about those bumbling boys he had shared most of his life with and knew everything about?

‘They are,’ Harry agreed. ‘They’re rather enthusiastic, though.’

Zayn grinned a little, and sat down on the stool opposite Harry. The stools were fairly low, so as Harry followed suit, he almost wobbled again. One of Zayn’s hands shot out, as though he was prepared to steady Harry. How amazing.

‘Thanks,’ Harry said. ‘Do you want some tea?’ He grabbed the teapot, and when Zayn nodded, he poured some in the lad’s cup.

‘Cool colours,’ Zayn said, sounding very appreciative. His eyes had lit up a little.

‘I know, right!’ Harry agreed. ‘It was Niall, if you, like, remember him, from the other day? It was he who sorted it.’

‘Yeah, I remember him, blond Irish bloke, right?’

‘You got it. I suppose this is what he meant when he told me to be proud before leaving me here.’

Zayn’s eyes scrunched up again, reduced to thin slits almost. They still glittered though, and Harry was sure his stomach would flip out any moment, like, just start somersaulting so bad he threw up or something. Like, his fingers were already shaking unless he held firmly around the edge of the table. ‘I don’t get it,’ Zayn said.

‘Oh, well, proud, like, er, Pride?’ Zayn still looked confused when he lifted the teacup and took a sip of it. ‘It’s a muggle thing,’ Harry said. ‘Like, a kind of parade which celebrates, like, love. Between everyone. It’s really rather nice.’

‘Sounds nice,’ Zayn said and nodded a little. His lips were just tinted slightly with purple, from the tea. Harry should absolutely in no way be focusing at them, but it was in fact impossible to look away. He was going to kill Niall for this. ‘But what’s it all got to do with the tea being like a rainbow?’ Zayn’s tongue swept out and licked his lower lip, so it became yellow in one corner and indigo in the other. Yeah, Harry was definitely going to, like, chuck Niall out the Astronomy Tower or something.

‘Oh, well,’ Harry began. He had to try his hardest to look away from Zayn’s lips and meet his eyes. ‘Well, so the symbol for this parade is a rainbow-flag. And it’s called Pride – did I already mention that?’

‘You did.’ Zayn’s smile was a little guarded, but he then grabbed one of the macaroons and looked at it with seemingly appreciative eyes.

Harry’s eyes had been appreciative since the moment Zayn entered the meadow, to be honest.

It went on like that – the conversation was a little stilted and Harry had to force himself not to stare at Zayn all the time. Harry, later, had a very difficult time deciding if the date had been a success (Louis claimed it had to be, because Harry had looked so smitten upon leaving, and Zayn hadn’t stormed off, had he now? Harry considered this low standards, but didn’t argue because he was busy describing Zayn’s lips when they’d been rainbow-tinted to Liam so only listening with half an ear to Louis) or a complete failure, because, well, nothing had really happened.

Harry could add a few more things to his List of Things I Know about My Future Love of My Life, but that was it, the sole outcome. Niall had said it was the little things that counted, that he had to let it take time, that it was like a tree, which would have to grow in its own pace, so he shouldn’t, like, force anything. Harry had liked that metaphor and just now he decided he favoured Niall’s encouraging over Liam’s, as the latter mostly consisted of how Harry should’ve made a move, dammit! Should’ve lent over the table and kissed him! Snogged his brains out! Palmed his dick through his robes right beneath that table!

Harry wasn’t sure why Liam was this bluntly straight-forward, he never was usually, but with every sentence Liam uttered he glanced over at Louis and looked particularly mad.

It was odd, in a not-so-very-odd-way-at-all sort of fashion, but Harry couldn’t quite muster up the energy to do something about it. He had only written two inches of a thirteen and two thirds one about The Systematic Degradation of Goblins in the Sixteenth Century and Racial Conflicts Today Originating from That. He especially had to work on the title because it was just slightly too rambling.

Louis was sat opposite him and Liam, in an armchair, with a book perched open in his lap but he didn’t seem to be reading, since he had five quills marching on the book pages and humming some Little Jinx song. Liam, while busy glaring at Louis, was supposed to work on the set of riddles he’d been given after the first task, and he had taken out twenty-two books from the library to aid him in that but, well, Harry was sure he hadn’t opened a single one of them yet. On the other hand, it had at least increased the statistics of how many books Liam had borrowed from the library during his Hogwarts time by, like, 400 percent. So that was always something.

Niall hadn’t been seen for hours, however, and just as Harry thought that, he naturally entered through the portrait hole. ‘Whaddap, boys,’ he said, looking profoundly pleased. Like he had eaten a whole tray of muffins or something.

‘Where’ve you been?’ Liam asked. His tone was still a little angry, and Harry hoped Niall wouldn’t think Liam was upset with him, that it was just the aftermath from Liam’s frustrations regarding Louis.

‘Sorted my date for the Yule Ball.’ Niall plopped down in Louis’ lap at this, grinning wildly.

‘Who’re you gonna go with?’ Louis asked as all the quills fell down on the book accompanied by the saddest little whistle.

‘Palvin. I’ll have to write her Magical Creatures essays for the rest of the year, but it’s definitely worth it.’ Niall looked up in the ceiling, and the look on his face made Harry think that yes, it would be worth it. For Niall, that is.

‘That’s brilliant, mate,’ Liam said. He looked sincerely happy for Niall, eyes scrunched up in the corners, and he didn’t even as much as glanced at Louis. Louis, who was patting Niall’s shoulder and saying ‘atta boy’ but stared frozenly at Liam over said shoulder. Those two.

‘Who’re you gonna take, Leemo?’ Harry asked, bumping his elbow into Liam’s ribs. ‘Gonna have to do the opening dance and all.’ When Liam’s face twisted into the unhappiest face ever, Harry really felt rather mean. He regretted saying it immensely and wished – not for the first time – that he had a timeturner. Not that he was certain how it would have helped specifically, because he couldn’t very well have gone and warned his earlier self not to say it to Liam, could he now? Some time-reversal spell though, where he was in charge and instead of having to meet himself, could just go back in time and still be aware he had done.

‘Me?’ Liam said, voice a little shaky. ‘I haven’t thought about it yet.’

Harry quickly glanced over at the heap of Boy that was in the other armchair, Louis eyes clouded and one of his hands wrapped around Niall’s wrist in a fashion that seemed to hurt a little. Niall met Harry’s eyes shortly. ‘You’ll sort it out, don’t worry!’ Niall quipped. ‘Our major problem, I’d say, is Harry.’

At this, Louis seemed to jolt out of his petrification: he dropped his hold on Niall – who rubbed a little on where Louis’ fingers had been pressed into his skin – and slammed his hands, palms first, against the plush armrests. ‘Yes! Hazza! This is perfect – this will be the resolution, the dramatic climax everything’s been building up to.’

There was a pause, and then Harry said, ‘What, so during the Yule Ball he’s gonna jack me off?’ He quickly dived into Liam’s side as Louis threw a pillow at him.

‘No, you plonker!’ Louis said. ‘Dirtyminded little –‘

‘As though we weren’t all thinking it!’ Niall interrupted, cackling loudly.

It was rather nice, all of it, Harry thought as Liam’s body vibrated with chuckles, and Louis and Niall started wrestling – Niall being a traitorous bastard and whatnot, while his cackles didn’t die down for a second – and Liam so warm where Harry had his nose pressed against him.

* * *

The plan – the final step! The fantastic ending move to a beautifully played game! The last part, which would leave Harry grateful the rest of his life to his brilliant friends – was in fact not too bad, but Harry was still incredibly nervous. Like, even though it was really well thought out and all, there still was the simple option that Zayn in fact didn’t want to go with Harry to the Yule Ball. Like, that he wasn’t into Harry, if he was being honest. That he, like, had just agreed to that date the other day because he was a nice guy.

Harry was really terribly nervous. He hadn’t eaten a bite yet, where he sat by the breakfast table, all by himself. Niall wasn’t awake yet, and Liam and Louis were at quidditch practice. Even though the House Cup wasn’t on this year, Liam had decided they were still going to practice since it was his last year and he really wanted to make a professional team next year, so he couldn’t let himself get out of shape. Ravenclaw and Slytherin had done the same, when they heard it, so there was going to be an unofficial House Cup – Hufflepuff had agreed too, after some pleading from Liam, and some threatening on Louis’ side.

So, Harry was all alone, which honestly made his nerves tingle even more empathically. He kind of regretted not sneaking into Niall’s bed instead of going down to get a cup of tea and some toast, but as he had contemplated that earlier, he had remember how Niall had looked absolutely knackered last night, after having stayed up doing Homework Help for the third-years until well after midnight. So he had decided to let the boy sleep undisturbed, and tiptoed down to the Great Hall, which still was fairly empty, being it so early on a Sunday morning.

That emptiness felt like both a blessing – less people would be around if he did something embarrassing, like puked due to his nervousness – and a curse, as there was nothing for him to be distracted by so he forgot what he was about to do in the afternoon.

Seriously, this was like the moment the rest of his life would be decided. Kind of. He had been similarly nervous before his O.W.L.s but. Well. Then the reoccurring pleasing of his dick wasn’t in danger; then it was only his career that was on stake. Maybe the former, his outlooks regarding his profession, should be higher valued, but well, right now Harry and little Harry were together rather determined what was of greater importance.

Then someone tapped him on his shoulder, and when Harry saw who it was, he spat cereal all over the table.

‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!’ said Zayn. Yeah, it was Zayn. Lovely Zayn, looking all newly awoken with his hair all ruffled and soft, had just witnessed Harry gobbing milk-induced wheat lumps all over the place. Harry could swear his cheeks matched the crimson red table cloth.

‘Sorry,’ Harry said, wiping at his mouth. ‘And that’s fine, I mean. Like, scaring me. I mean –‘ He didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

Zayn didn’t seem to know how to respond either, as he shuffled his hands down his pockets. Then he plopped down on the bench next to Harry, and handed him a napkin which he seemed to have conjured without using his wand – just a tiny movement of his lips. Amazing, really.

‘Cheers,’ Harry said and rubbed a little at the tablecloth with it, at a point which looked like it would stain. Not that this wasn’t a magical school where it was super easy to get rid of stains, but Harry could at least try and make the house elves’ lives a bit easier. They sure had enough laundry to do already.

‘So, how’s it going?’ Zayn asked, looking a bit out of it, as though he wasn’t entirely awake yet.

‘Fine,’ Harry said. ‘Except struggling with keeping food in my mouth, all is rather splendid. You?’

Zayn’s mouth quirked upwards in a smile. ‘Good, too. Have mastered eating well enough – not suggesting it’s simple, there.’

Harry grinned, but before he had time to respond, Zayn cleared his throat a little, and focused at a point that seemed to be right next to Harry. Like, at a chandelier. Weird.

‘So, was wondering, do you have anyone to go to the Ball with?’ Zayn said, really quickly. Still staring at the chandelier.

Harry felt as though he was having an out-of-body experience. He heard himself responding, ‘You can’t go to the Yule Ball with a chandelier, Zayn,’ and then everything tuned out until it was pitch black.

* * *

‘Harry?’ someone was saying in a really nice voice, like, one that sounded soft and a little rasped and if voices could smell (it was so sad they couldn’t, like, poor voices, couldn’t have a smell attached to them; they were missing out so much) it would probably have smelled like cinnamon and maybe elderflower and probably also some pine wood. ‘Harry?’ it said again.

Harry forced his eyes open. There were clouds above him, and he could see raindrops falling down, but none hit him. He wondered if he was beneath an invisible umbrella. Then he remembered that, for seventh years, he had had three meals a day in a room with a ceiling that reflected the sky, and felt a little bit stupid.

‘Harry, d’you reckon you can sit up?’ A hand was softly wrapped around Harry’s over arm, and now it squeezed a bit tighter as Harry crawled up into a sitting position. He was on the floor, though, he noted. It all felt a bit offhanded.

‘What happened?’ he asked slowly, rubbing a hand across his face in the hopes that it would make everything feel less angled and blurry.

Zayn – so it was Zayn who was grasping his arm; Harry would file this moment for later – said, ‘You, er, kind of fainted?’

‘I did?’ Harry asked, in perhaps a higher voice than necessary, because Zayn jolted just ever so slightly. ‘Sorry,’ he added quickly, in what was no more than a whisper.

Zayn smiled, a smile that was slightly soft around the edges, but still lovely. ‘That’s fine. So, do you?’

‘Do I what?’

‘Want to go to the ball with me?’ The smile faded a little, so it was instead shaky around the edges. Still lovely.

‘Well, yes. I mean, of course. It’s just, like, do you?’ Harry was still sitting on the floor, he noticed as a tiny Hufflepuff student took a long step over his outstretched legs.

‘Do I what?’

‘Want to, like, go to the ball with me?’

Zayn’s brow furrowed. He was squatting on the floor next to Harry, and now he withdrew his hand from Harry’s arm and put it in his side. Wouldn’t have asked otherwise, would I?’

Harry breathed in slowly, blinked. He still felt dizzy. ‘No, suppose not. It’s just, I was supposed to have asked you. Had it all planned out, proper. Like, really.’

Zayn’s brow un-furrowed, and he smiled again. ‘Did it involve proud tea?’

Harry giggled. ‘No,’ he protested. ‘There isn’t such a thing!’

Zayn’s face softened a little, and he stretched out his hand to grab Harry’s, and then hauled him up so Harry could sit on the bench again. ‘You know, you didn’t need to do all those things for me.’

Harry didn’t want to let go of Zayn’s hand, so without making a point of it, he held onto it, even though he was now proper seated and in no danger of falling down to the floor again. Unless Zayn dropped another surprise on him, that is. ‘I didn’t? How else would you’ve noticed me?’

‘It’s not like you’re unnoticeable unless you plant billywigs in my room,’ Zayn responded, and gave Harry’s hand a light squeeze.

On one hand, Harry felt terribly affronted that he hadn’t had to do all those silly stunts the boys had convinced him were highly necessary. But on the other hand, he was holding hands with Zayn and was going to be his date for the Yule Ball. The former feeling – which was super bubbly and made his face unable to _not_ break into a grin – was a bit more prominent, though, so he would deal with the boys later.

* * *

When it came down to it, he never got around to deal with the boys. The couple of weeks up to the Yule Ball passed in a whiz; Harry was terribly busy being able to stare at Zayn without being considered a creep any longer (not that it had stopped him before, but still), so he didn’t really have time for much else.

And then it was actually the night of the ball, and he just couldn’t get his hair right. When the headscarf slid off his hair for the perhaps fifteenth time, he kicked at his bedpost and sat down on the bed with a loud _humpf_!

‘Everything alright?’ Niall asked, looking up from where he was lying on his bed in just a towel and hair still wet. How he was going to be ready in time, Harry had no idea. On the other hand, Liam and Louis hadn’t even started; they’d been avoiding the dorm both of them all day.

‘Can’t get my hair right,’ Harry said, and pouted a little.

‘Try something new, then,’ Niall said with a shrug. It looked odd, since he was lying down, and it almost had his towel slipping off his hips.

‘Yeah? Like what?’ Harry asked.

‘Dunno. Y’could have it, like, up?’ Niall waved his hand above his head. ‘Like, a bun.’

Harry considered this for a moment, and then he bent forwards and gathered up all his hair in one hand. As he looked up again, having fastened it, Niall gave him a thumbs-up. He looked over at the mirror, and yeah, he also gave himself a thumbs-up. The mirror said, ‘So, Little My. That’s a new one,’ and sounded quite condescending, but Harry had no idea what it was talking about, so he didn’t reply other than an eye-roll in its general direction before turning around quickly. ‘I saw that!’ it said, indignantly.

‘Sorry,’ Harry found himself saying.

Niall shook his head a little at him. ‘You do look good, mate. Zayn’s gonna drop his jaw.’ Harry’s stomach lurked a little at that.

Then Louis and Liam came stumbling into the dorm, both of them red-cheeked and wild-eyed. ‘I’ve got my date sorted,’ Liam said, completely breathless.

‘About time,’ Niall said. ‘With like, what, two hours to spare.’ When Harry and Niall had asked Liam about who he would take over the past couple of weeks, Liam had just grown terribly red and said he would fix it, they shouldn’t worry. And if Louis had been around, he had cast worried glanced his way, which Louis had pointedly ignored, while almost matching Liam’s glaring cheeks.

Louis’ eyes now travelled over to Harry’s, and the moment Louis blinked slowly, a tiny grin hidden on his lips, Harry’s stomach lurked again, but in a more pleasant fashion. ‘Who’re you gonna take, Li?’ Harry asked, wolf-grinning already.

‘He’s taking me!’ Louis exclaimed even before Liam had opened his mouth. ‘And we’re gonna be the prettiest couple there, and I’m gonna amaze McGonagall with my dance skills, and it’s gonna be so great –‘ He didn’t get any further before Liam, who had slowly turned around and looked at Louis with an almost disgustingly fond look on his face, pressed his lips against Louis’ and effectively shut him up.

The catcalls from Niall and the cooing from Harry didn’t seem to reach them, but Harry didn’t mind, because he was so happy. He hadn’t had a clue his seventh year would turn into this, but seriously, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

And a couple of hours later, when Zayn grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the dance floor and into an alcove near the stairs, and just leant forward and kissed him, so carefully, eyes asking him if it was okay (Harry’s eyes probably responded something along the lines of ‘Hell, yes!’ because Zayn’s lips reattached themselves to his really quickly, and the snog became much less careful and much more heated in no time), then Harry thought again that he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this story! Thank you for your lovely prompts - I had a hard time choosing one, and I did mix them up a little bit. Also, there's not a lot of Zarry in it, to be honest. Hmm. (I should write a sequel, one day......)
> 
> Had so much fun writing it, though! Hope you liked it xx


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